


Teeter Totter

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Miscommunication, Murder, Prostitution, Redemption, Slash, mentions of abuse, mild violence, risk of homelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*AU* Back and forth -like a see-saw, life trembles on a delicate balance, that dips a little one way or another but always center. What happens if the scales tip too far though?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**C.M.D: This came to me in a dream, after reading Megatron's Origins and, well, too much of an overactive imagination. Basically, my muses took a potential alternative route to the start of the civil war and mixed in my favourite slash pairing, and made this.  
Originally posted on FF.net**

 

_He didn't like Sunstreaker!_

" _Waaahh!"_

" _Oh, no... Sunstreaker, Tracks, what happened?," the teacher said, approaching the two sparklings._

_Tracks bawled from where he sat on the ground. "S-sunny p-pushed me!," he cried._

" _I did not!," the other sparkling protested. He crossed his arms over his chest, pouting angrily. "He falled by himself!"_

" _Sunstreaker...," the femme sighed. Always with these two... "It's not nice to push others. You need to apologize to Tracks and be nice, or else you can go stand in the corner."_

_At her warning, Sunstreaker tensed up. He pouted more, before sullenly turning to Tracks. The little corvette was getting to his pedes now, wiping at his damp cheekplates. "I'm... sorry...," the yellow sparkling muttered._

_Tracks was silent for about a nanoklik, then he suddenly lashed out, kicking Sunstreaker in the shin and dashing off._

" _Tracks!," the teacher yelled after him exasperatedly, as Sunstreaker began to howl in pain._

_Tracks found himself a nice cozy place to sit and cry in peace, in the bushes at the back of the Kindergartener's schoolyard. He wasn't really upset that Sunstreaker had pushed him -they did that sort of thing often to each other, unfortunately- but he was furious because once again his "supposed" friend had called him ugly and said his wings were stupid. Tracks knew he was different from the other sparklings because of his wings, but he normally didn't mind, until someone said something awful about them, shattering the little corvette's confidence. Then he'd get so angry and hurt that he'd start crying, like he was now._

" _S-stupid S-sunstreaker...!," he hiccuped, pulling his knees to his chestplates. "I-i-i am pretty!"_

_The shaking of branches to his left followed the sparkling's vehement declaration, startling him. "W-whose th-there?," he choked, turning to the sound. "S-sideswipe, i-if that's you, g-go away! I don't l-like you or S-sunny right n-now!"_

_The branches stopped shaking for a couple astroseconds, before another sparkling was pushing them apart, stepping into Tracks' little clearing. "Y-you're not Sideswipe...," Tracks mumbled, looking up at the other. He was a mech, about the same size as the corvette, with a navy blue paintjob and wearing a visor and mask._

_For about a klik, they just stared at each other, before the unknown sparkling was reaching into subspace and pulling out a little handkerchief. He held it out for Tracks to take; who, remembering that he had previously been crying, hurriedly took the offered clothe and wiped at his optics and cheekplates. "T-thank you...," the winged sparkling said, when he was done. He lifted his arm to give the handkerchief back to the other mech, but he just shook his helm, silently gesturing for Tracks to keep it._

" _Oh...okay... T-thank you, again." Silence fell between them for a few astroseconds, where Tracks deliberated what to do next. Eventually, he awkwardly patted the ground beside him, inviting the blue 'bot to sit with him._

_The stranger did so, settling in quietly beside the corvette._

" _...I don't think I've seen you before," Tracks commented, resting his chin on his knee joints. "Are you new?"_

_The sparkling shook his helm._

" _Oh...," the other mech mumbled. His lip components pouted in confusion. "You don't really talk much, do you?"_

_A slow nod this time. It fell quiet again for a few more kliks before the blue sparkling gestured to Tracks' cheekplates. At the unexpected attention, the small corvette blushed, touching his face in embarrassment. "Sunstreaker... he... he pushed me and said my wings were stupid, ugly sticks," he explained to his silent companion. "I...I didn't like what he said."_

_The other mech cocked his helm, seeming almost offended that the lamborghini twin had made fun of Tracks. He reached out, gently patting the multi-coloured sparkling on his helm. Tracks' blush increased at the contact; burying his chin deeper into his knee joints. "Do... You think I'm pretty, right?"_

_Again, the quiet sparkling nodded his helm._

_Beaming in contentment now, Tracks stretched out his legs, no longer feeling sad and anxious. He wanted to ask if the blue 'bot wanted to play with him, when suddenly the school bell rang. Recess was over for the time being. "C'mon!," Tracks chirped, scrambling to his pedes. "We've got to go back now."_

_He held out his servo for the other mech to take, smiling brightly when his quiet companion did so after a moment. Almost dragging the blue sparkling along, Tracks headed out from the bush and back to his classmates._

" _Hey, do you want to be friends?," he asked, as they made their way across the playground._

_The second kindergartner seemed surprised by the proposal. His visor dimmed and flashed -no doubt, his optics quickly shuttering behind the red glass- before he once more slowly nodded. Tracks couldn't believe how happy he felt at that hesitant confirmation. His wings fluttered in his excitement!_

" _Ah, Tracks; there you are," the teacher greeted, as she did her helm count of the sparklings pushing to get through the door and into their class. "And you've brought Soundwave along with you. That's good. Just head inside and take your seats then, boys."_

" _So, your name is Soundwave!," Tracks noted, turning to face his new friend. Their servos were still clasped tightly. The corvette smiled brightly, his wings still moving behind him. "I'm Tracks. We're going to be the best of friends!"_

**xXxXx**

"Oooh...Primus, yes, there! Aahh!"

The winged mech arched into his assailant, as denta and glossa nibbled away at his neck cables; groping servos winding down to his aft. They cupped the heated plating there, pushing their two codpieces together. Pinned by his partner to the storage room wall, the more verbal 'bot could only gasp and moan as his frame was continuously pleasured, waiting for the moment when the foreplay would stop and the real action would begin.

So distracted were the two in their activities that they didn't notice the turning of the doorknob, or the exasperated sigh that came from the other side of the door. The sudden brightness of the room though grabbed the winged mech's attentions.

"Oh...S-Soundwave?," he gasped, writhing at a particularly good bite. His partner startled at the name, lifting his helm and looking at the other 'bot in confusion, before he turned and took notice of the blue mech standing behind them in the doorway.

The tapedeck's visor dimmed, and he lifted the two knapsacks he carried in his left servo. "Order: come Tracks. Fact: class is about to start."

"Oh, alright," the fore-mentioned corvette sighed, pushing away his stunned companion. "Thanks for nothing," he said as he sauntered out of the storage closet, blowing a kiss to the other mech. Soundwave closed the door after him, blocking his nameless partner from sight.

"Which class do we have now?," Tracks yawned, pulling a pocket mirror from subspace and checking himself over. When he was sure he looked beautiful, as always, he put the mirror away before taking his bag back from Soundwave. They started walking down the hallway, the blue mech slightly leading.

"Destination: History," his friend answered. "Status: three kliks before class begins."

"That much time?," the corvette whined. "Slag, Wavey. I could have at least gotten an overload in that time frame."

Soundwave wisely did not comment on that last bit. After having been friends with Tracks for stellar cycles, the tapedeck had come to accept certain things about the corvette. Like, his preference to sleep around with any 'bot that caught his fancy that orn -or that very cycle. Usually, it wasn't such a concern, but sometimes, Tracks' interfacing habits got in the way of important things in his life. School, for example. It didn't help either that almost no one refused the winged mech's offer for an interface. Why would they? A sexy, talented, drop-dead gorgeous 'bot like himself?

They'd have to be crazy to even think of rejecting him!

"Well, I guess that just means you're diligent," Tracks commented, as the stretch of silence between them surpassed a few astroseconds. "You always look out for me, making sure that I get to school and class on time. Plus, you're a real Rocky the way you handle those goons that try to jump us! A regular guardian angel."

The multi-coloured mech spun around, quickly pecking the older youngling's cheekvent as he wound his arm around the other's. "Your the bestest friend a 'bot could ask for, Soundwave!"

Soundwave did not reply to that comment. "Inquiry: have you even begun work on your physics homework?"

Tracks opened his mouth, before closing it and looking up at the blue mech sheepishly. "No?"

"..."

"Oh, Soundwave! You'll help me, right?," he pleaded, pressing tight against his friend's side, "Pleeeeease?"

The other youngling released a heavy intake, the only physical sign that his resolve had crumpled. "Affirmative...," he muttered, to the joy of his smaller companion.

**xXxXx**

Tracks puttered around his small apartment, humming happily to himself as he set to work. He had left-overs of a home cooked meal in the microwave, heating up, and there was a pot on the stove for some cups of hot oil. He had cleaned the place up last night, and made sure that everything was put away properly, all for Soundwave's arrival. The two of them were going to do homework tonight! Which, as previously proven, would mean that they'd get through a couple pages of work before Tracks managed to convince his friend that he couldn't sit still doing equations a nanoklik longer and then they'd spend the rest of the night watching old video files. The corvette had already pulled his favourite out of the shelf; Breakfast at Tiffany's. He just couldn't get enough of those classic romances.

Smiling to himself, Tracks finished setting the last of his school things on the tiny kitchen table, just as the doorbell rang. Wings fluttering with excitement, he called out "Coming!" before quickly checking himself in the full-length mirror he had installed near the entry way, then unlocking the door.

It opened outwards, revealing Soundwave on the other side. He looked utterly miserable, having just walked through a massive downpour from the train stop. "O-oh," Tracks smiled wryly, lifting a servo to his lip components as he tried not to laugh. "C'mon, get in. We'll get you dried off immediately."

The tapedeck allowed himself to be led inside by those slender servos, and taken directly to the washrack. Tracks turned the dryer on, pushing Soundwave before the vents until he was satisfied his friend was dry enough; shutting the machine down, and pulling out a can of wax. He held it out questioningly for the blue mech, who only shook his helm, heading for the washrack door. "You know, one of these days, I am gonna strap you down and give you a good wax. Not that you don't look great or anything, but a little extra glean doesn't hurt," Tracks commented, following after Soundwave.

Soundwave merely walked into the kitchen, pulling his own things from subspace and setting them on the table besides Tracks'. "Have you eaten?," the corvette asked, heading to the stove. His oil had boiled and could now be served. Pouring it into two mugs, he added a few sprinkles of ground energon into the black liquid, before giving them both a stir.

"Affirmative," the tapedeck replied.

"Awww, that's too bad," Tracks mock pouted. "Well, I've put some left-overs in the microwave for dinner, so if you want any, just say so. Or we can whip up something else for a snack."

Soundwave took the mug held out for him, setting it down on the table.

The multi-coloured mech noticed this. Confused, he looked up at his friend. "...you're not going to drink it?"

The tapedeck slowly shook his helm.

"...You know, once before, you would have showed me your face if I had asked...," Tracks mumbled, hurt. "What's changed?"

Soundwave did not respond.

Sighing, the winged 'bot slipped into his own seat, grabbing his physics datapad. "So, chapter three..."


	2. Chapter 2

_Two sparklings ran across the field; one laughing happily and the other attempting to keep up._

" _T-tracks...," the second one gasped. He said nothing more, almost stumbling as he tried not to lose his friend, but his one worded plea had caught the other's attention._

" _Ah, Soundwave...," Tracks giggled, stopping and waiting for the tapedeck to catch up. "You're supposed to keep up!"_

_The blue sparkling nodded his helm, his intakes coming in heavily through his mask. Smiling wryly, the corvette looped arms with Soundwave, marching off to their little corner of the playground. "It's okay if you can't keep up though," he assured his friend. "I'll always wait for you."_

" _...r-really...?," Soundwave asked. They pushed their way into the bushes, finding the small alcove that they enjoyed sitting in together._

" _Of course!," Tracks exclaimed at the other sparkling's nervous question. "Hey...," the winged mech said, looking at Soundwave worriedly. "Can you breathe with that thing on?"_

_The tapedeck was still huffing and panting weakly behind his mask, but he refused to take it off. At the innocent question, he stiffened up, pulling back into himself. "...I'm not supposed to take it off...," he answered. Probably the most he'd ever said in one sentence, that Tracks had heard from him as of to date._

" _Why not?," the corvette asked, pushing in closer._

_Soundwave fell resolutely silent, shaking his helm. He almost flinched when a black servo rose to his face. Seeing that his friend was almost frightened, Tracks pulled back a little. "I-i'm sorry...," he whispered. "I just wanted to know what you look like underneath those things. I'm sorry, I won't try to take your mask off."_

_Contritely, he sat back, folding his servos on his lap neatly. The blue sparkling relaxed a little at the sight, before guilt squirmed through his fuel tanks._

" _Fact: I...I'm not pretty...," he mumbled weakly, "...like you..."_

_Tracks blushed at the comment, hunching his shoulder tires high about his helm in modesty. "I-i bet you're not ugly though," he smiled back._

_Soundwave hesitated for a moment at the unexpected compliment, before slowly lifting his servos to his face. With trembling fingers, he pulled off both visor and mask, revealing his face to his waiting companion. Tracks could not help but to gape in awe. His friend... he looked, amazing! Soft sculpted olfactory sensor was set perfectly in the middle of his face, with two pale blue cheekarches on either side. Thin lip components were pursed fearfully, and wide, magenta-coloured optics looked at him unblinkingly, waiting for his friend's approval._

" _See," Tracks grinned, his words gushing out in a happy sigh. He shifted closer to the other mech. "You're really cute looking! You should show your face more often!"_

_Soundwave's optics widened at the suggestion, violently shaking his head and hurrying to put his visor back on. "Oh, wait, please! Don't hide!," the corvette begged, gently touching the tapedeck's arm. "Not yet, please? I want to see your optics a little bit longer."_

_The blue bot's arm paused. "Just a little longer?," Tracks repeated._

_Soundwave gave him a strange look, before he slowly lowered his arm again, setting the visor down in his lap. "You'll put it back on when we have to go inside, won't you, though?," the multi-coloured sparkling said. The other mech nodded. "C-could... if I asked though, could I see your face again?"_

_It was quiet for a klik, as Tracks waited for Soundwave's response. "...status: o-only when we're alone...," the tapedeck eventually said. "Fact: n-no one else can see."_

" _Okay!," the corvette smiled, feeling calm and content once more. He leaned in real close to his friend, quickly pecking him on the lip components, like he'd seen older bots do. Soundwave made a strange little noise in the back of his vocalizer at the kiss, craning his neck back in shock. At the cute expression the other was making, Tracks couldn't help but laugh._

" _You're really pretty 'Wavey! I'm glad you're my friend."_

_A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of Soundwave's lip components. "...s-same..."_

**xXxXx**

Everything hurt...

Soundwave tried to swallow back his groan, forcing himself to stand straight, even as he hurried across the Academy's field as best as he could. He hadn't expected to be late, but certain... circumstances had kept him longer that morning. Pushing those memories to the back of his processor, archiving them and cataloguing them in a large and black-flagged folder, the blue mech tried to quicken his pace, concern for his friend coming to the fore-front of his thoughts. They were supposed to meet up in front of the Academy this morning, just like they usually did...

Tracks wasn't in sight though. That could only mean one thing.

The blue mech paused as he reached the building, leaning against its side heavily as pain racked through his frame. Wheezing through his intakes, Soundwave tried to shove on through the agony, ignoring the coolant that rose to his optics beneath his visor. He just made it inside the building when the Academy's warning bell began to ring above his helm.

Torn, Soundwave looked towards the janitor's utility closet, before turning his helm away remorsefully and shuffling off towards first period class.

**xXxXx**

His optics onlined in a flash as the shrieking bell rang loudly from outside the door, cutting through their groans and pants. Dazed and confused, Tracks struggled to push away from the wall, elbowing his partner when the mech continued to bite at his throat and paw hungrily at his codpiece. "W-would you... just stop!," the corvette snapped, shaking off the other 'bot and quickly putting some distance between them. "That was the bell! What time it is?"

"Why does it matter?," the other mech grumbled, watching as the slimmer 'bot quickly grabbed his bag, trying to throw his scattered items back into it. "It's not like you haven't ever skipped class before."

"Of course I haven't!" Tracks ignored the 'bot, more focused on the pounding starting up in his helm and the glazing heat over his optics. Soundwave always came to collect him before class, no matter the day or time! He had never let him be late before... So, what happened? Where was Soundwave? Had his friend ditched him to fend for himself, with no reason or motive?

"Skipping class is for second-rate fools like yourself," Tracks spat, his temper seeping out as his emotions flew off in several different directions, "I'm not going to lower myself to your standards. I've got pride, I've got d- ack!"

The corvette hissed as he was shoved face first into the shelves, his bag slipping from his servos and crashing to the floor again. The mech behind him snarled as he increased pressure, pushing Tracks' neck cables tight against the shelf's edge. "You've got nothing but a greasy valve, you chatty whore," his partner said lowly, his other servo pulling at a wing shortly before tickling down the multi-coloured mech's backstruts. Tracks choked, his arms trying to sweep behind him uselessly, unable to throw the mech back this time in his current position.

"You promised me a 'face, slut," the mech hissed as his servo reached the other's aft, fingertips digging deep into the seams of his codpiece, "And I'm going to get it. Whether you give it to me or not." His grip tightened, digging in painfully, causing Tracks to flinch.

Gripping the shelf shakily, tears collecting hotly in his optics, the corvette silently retracted his plating; swallowing back his whimper, as the other 'bot pressed tight against him, the sound of his codpiece sliding back before stinging pain shot up his spinal struts.

**xXxXx**

Energon ran down the drain thickly, dark and muddied as it mixed with the bleach, swirling down the drain with a nasty suck. His visor stayed fixated on their saturated colours, almost catching his own distorted reflection in the sheen of the sink's bottom. Stepping back, the sensors clicked off, stopping the flow of cleanser as he lifted a servo, replacing his mask back in his proper place with a dull snap. It pressed uncomfortably against his face, digging like pins and claws at swollen sensors, causing everything to throb.

He supposed he deserved it though...

He always did.

The door swung open behind him and the mech quickly dropped his servo from his face, content to pretend that he didn't hear the stranger's entrance. Of course, he was forced to turn around when he heard that small gasp next.

"S-soundwave...?"

Surprised, the tapedeck looked behind himself, his visor flashing in shock at the corvette staring back at him. Tracks stood by the washroom door, wings lowered behind him, his bag held in a loose servo by his side and his disbelieving optics fixed on his friend with disbelief. There was some variation of relief to be felt in Soundwave's spark, though it was quick to fade as he noticed the few smudges along the corvette's frame, especially his face, and that there was anything but kindness reflecting in the other's blue orbs.

"Y-you...," Tracks started, static lacing into his tone as he uttered the words lowly, "Where were you?!" He threw his bag at Soundwave; it bounced off of the blue mech's chestplates with a flat clang, falling to the floor at his pedes. Caught off-guard by the aggressive action, he could only stare silently at the bag, before lifting his chin and returning his gaze to the upset mech.

"You were supposed to come get me! You've always come and found me!," the multi-coloured 'bot yelled, his lip components twisting with a snarl. It the first time Soundwave had ever seen them do so. "Because of you, I w-was... I was late for class, slaggit! N-now, I'm going to be written up for it; my perfect record is ruined! And it's all your fault!"

So much vehemency, over a simple attendance record? The silent mech felt his spark lurch painfully as hatred spewed from Tracks' optics, holding him accountable for some mundane issue when every single part of his frame hurt. The pain was so great, even now, it felt like Soundwave was going to fall apart at the seams. But he'd forced himself to come, to make both the one that had done this to him and this mech before him now, happy. And now he was being blamed for his selfless actions?

Tracks stomped his pede, shaking his helm as he bit back a scream of rage. "Why are you doing this to me?," he demanded. "Have I done something to upset you? Is that why you're being such a sparkling and ignoring me as if I don't exist!"

Soundwave clenched his fists as the accusations continued, the corvette stalking up to him angrily. "Why don't you say anything? Defend yourself, slaggit! Or am I not even worth the effort of your fragging excuses?"

Tracks' growled as his friend continued to remain silent. "What is your PROBLEM?!," he screamed, unable to take the other mech's lack of response anymore. Tracks pushed Soundwave. "Frag you, Soundwave! You're acting like a major glitch and I don't-"

He felt nothing but anger. Shuttering his optics, Soundwave stared down into his friend's flared optics, venting heavily, unaware how one astrosecond they had been standing in front of each other; the next, Tracks pinned to the wall, the tapedeck holding him there with one servo clasped over his mouth. Even in the silence now, he could hear the corvette's whiny words echoing loudly all around them. All about himself; all about his own needs. Didn't Tracks understand all that Soundwave did for him on a regular basis? Of course he didn't. Why should he? It was always about 'me, me, me' for the narcissistic mech... no one existed in his little world, other than those that could serve him. It had always been that way.

Shaking with overwhelming rage, the tapedeck forced himself to release Tracks, watching with disgust as the corvette leaned weakly against the washroom wall. "S-soundwave... y-you...," the other stuttered, mouth gaping pathetically.

He needed to leave. Before he did something he knew he would regret. Turning, Soundwave made to leave, but stopped at the servos that grabbed his arm. He glanced backwards, visor dim, only to see Tracks staring back up at him with fright, his fingers twitching anxiously around the blue plating.

"Wa-wait, S-soundwave, I-"

He ripped his arm free quickly, marching straight for the door and leaving despite the weak plea that echoed flatly behind him. Ignoring the dull aching of his spark and frame as he stomped out into the hallway, Soundwave turned, heading back to his class.

Watching the door swing close on the blue mech's backstruts, his stammered words blatantly ignored, the corvette slowly let his out-stretched servo drop, feeling his knees give out underneath him; his palms clapping against the floor as he fell. It felt like he sat there for an eternity, his intakes coming in short, quiet gasps as he stared blankly down at the floor beneath him.

"I...I'm s-sorry...," Tracks whispered to no one, before he covered his face with his servos and curled into himself.


	3. Chapter 3

" _'Wavey!"_

_The little sparkling rushed across the class room as his friend walked through the door, wrapping him tight up in a hug and chirping in delight. "Oh, 'Wavey!," Tracks said as he pulled back a little, giving the other mech his best pout, "I missed you so much when you were away! I had no one to play with!"_

" _Status: A-am... sorry...," Soundwave replied softly, his visor dim with contrite._

_The corvette waved it off quickly. "It's okay now! You came back and I'm really really happy that you did! I want you to be my friend forever, 'Wavey." Again, Tracks hugged the tapedeck, but this time, the action drew a little whimper from the other sparkling._

_Flinching at the unexpected sound, Tracks immediately pulled away from Soundwave, staring at his friend uncertainly. "W-wavey... 'Wavey, are you okay?," he asked, his servo lifted hesitantly for the blue mech._

_Soundwave said nothing for a few astroseconds; his arm lifting stiffly and his fingers winding around Tracks'. "A-affirmative," he lied, "Fact: Just a little boo-boo."_

_The corvette gasped at the statement. "Oh no! How did you get hurt? Do you want me to kiss it better?" Blue optics shuttered with concern at the tapedeck, but the quiet sparkling only shook his helm slowly._

" _Answer: a-accidentally rolled out of b-bed. Status: am o-okay." Tracks looked a little doubtful at the statement. "Inquiry: c-could... could we go play?," Soundwave quickly asked, his visor dimming a little. "Please?"_

_The fingers around his own tightened._

_The corvette was confused and just a little scared, though he didn't really know why. Swallowing slowly, Tracks nodded, deciding that it had really been a long time since he'd last seen his friend. Playing together again sounded like a really good idea. Especially if it could make Soundwave happy. "Okay, 'Wavey," the sparkling smiled, squeezing the tapedeck's servo back comfortingly. "Let's go play!"_

_Soundwave let himself be led off silently to where ever Tracks chose._

**xXxXx**

It was cold this morning...

The corvette moved through his apartment slowly, gathering his things, piling them up on the kitchen table. His homework was already there, sitting from the night before, finished and ready to be packed. All he needed was some fuel for lunch... Putting the rest of his textbooks down on the table, Tracks headed for the fridge next. It almost felt warmer when he opened the door, peering into the receptacle.

...only half a cube left...

Shuttering his optics slowly, he closed the fridge again, deciding that a lunch would be unnecessary. His fuel tanks gave a little growl of protest, but the corvette ignored them just as he did everything else. Grabbing his datapads for the orn, Tracks subspaced the heavier ones, heading out of his apartment next. The lights dimmed at his exit, sensing that no one was home any longer.

A small, yellow glow rose from a thin datapad left behind on the table; a large, flickering warning glyph written across its face.

**xXxXx**

He didn't know what to do.

Soundwave watched from across the classroom, his attention fixed wholly on the winged mech sitting all by himself. The teacher was droning on about something, no doubt important to their finals, but the tapedeck could not pay attention. His frame still ached from the week before, but the rage that had encompassed him had bled out completely now, leaving him numb and afraid.

Afraid that Tracks would never forgive him. Afraid that he'd finally pushed away the only good thing in his life...

Tracks hadn't spoken to him since that incident in the washroom. He attended every class, but chose a seat far away from the blue mech, his optics glued only to the teacher and his textbooks. When they passed each other in the hallways, his friend didn't even give him a second glance; his helm held straight and his optics focused on his next step. If they bumped paths, the slimmer mech would turn and take another route. Even Tracks' grades had kept, the corvette diligently keeping up with his studies and his attendance.

Apparently he no longer needed Soundwave's help for anything.

He was... obsolete...

Perhaps his friendship had never even meant anything to the other after all. Maybe he should just let Tracks be and-

Soundwave clenched his servo. No, he thought sadly, no, he couldn't just walk away. He wanted the other's friendship; _needed_ it, really. If he could only gather the courage to approach Tracks, maybe he could apologize then. Maybe his friend would even accept it. And then they could go back to how things used to be: him, always the other's support, helping, accompanying, caring for Tracks secretly. It would be alright, the tapedeck told himself. He could even be the corvette's look-out again for whenever he wanted to go 'face someone before class. He'd be happy. They'd be happy. They'd even-

The bell rang above their helms, announcing the end of their period and the start of lunch. Startled, it took astroseconds for Soundwave to collect his thoughts and things, standing up in his seat and looking over the helms, trying to find Tracks'. He was horrified to see that the corvette was already making his way out the door with a bunch of their classmates. Quickly, the tapedeck followed.

He stopped as he made it out into the hallway, his spark withering slightly in his chestplates. Tracks was nowhere to be found among the shoving, moving mass of mechs and femmes. And he no longer knew where the other went for his lunches these orns...

Shoulders lowering miserably, Soundwave glanced into his bag, the glow of an extra energon cube he had picked up for Tracks staring back at him mockingly.

**xXxXx**

Tracks moved fast but quietly, wings lowered stiffly, trying to hide his nervousness. Fear was an easy target in a place like this... and the corvette wanted to be anything but that. Warm and even sidewalks slowly trailed off into banged and dented ones; ragged and scratched, an indiscernible stain here and there. Scrap and other trash littered along the sides and at the curb, spilling over onto the grungy streets, and leading up staircases to equally as dilapidated low-rise apartments. Glancing quickly up at one, Tracks saw them to be filthy and stained, graffiti covering the walls and the majority of windows boarded up with cheap sheet metal.

The few that were not covered, looked like black, gaping maws; the occasional dim light peering out from the shadows.

The multi-coloured mech turned his helm back to the sidewalk, keeping his optics forward as he continued further and further into the creepy neighbourhood, highly aware of the few glances he was getting from the gang of mechs and femmes perched at some doorways. He wanted to run, he wanted to flee... But reality persisted, saying that he couldn't. He knew that.

Tracks slowed down as he came up to the only two-story house on the block, staring up at the poorly painted white walls and yellow-flecked sills and roof. It was as if the place was trying to come off as being much nicer than it really was... but instead, looking like the tainted remains of a once innocent sparkling's toy house. Ragged curtains covered the windows and shattered crystal flowers filled the empty yard, scattered slightly over the path as Tracks walked forwards slowly.

He lifted his optics to the gaudy 'welcome' sign on the door as he walked up the stairs, feeling strangely, that maybe this is where he should be after all.

A snide voice in the back of his processor said he'd always belonged in a place like this.

His servo was knocking on the door, before the corvette was even aware of what was happening. His spark gave a momentary jolt, and he shuffled back half a step in terror, but the door swung open and it was too late to back down now. He tried not to stare at the femme that answered the door; a detached look on her face and pieces of her plating missing, showing her underwires and cables. Seeing the youngling, her expression grew distinctly annoyed. "Can I help you?," she asked shortly, "This is not a place for children."

"I...," Tracks cleared his vocalizer, staring back into the femme's optics flatly, refusing to be cowed. He needed this; needed to feed and shelter himself. This was the only thing he was good at... "I am not a customer. I came to apply for a job."

The femme's optics flared at that and her scowl immediately turned into a smile. "Really now?," she purred sultrily, studying the mech from pede to helm. "Well... I just may have a place for you yet. Come in, come in." She wrapped an arm around the corvette's shoulder tires, pulling him into the sweetly-scented lair. Tracks only had a moment to take in the gaudy, red and mauve coloured furniture and decoration, before he was being ushered into a sitting room.

A heavy-set mech, black and menacing looking, stood by the doorway; thick arms crossed over his chestplates as he scowled over everything. His yellow optics fell on Tracks as he entered the room, and the youngling quickly turned his gaze away. He did not like the way this stranger looked at him.

"Now," the femme said as she circled around him, grabbing his chin and gently turning his helm up towards her, "We will discuss profits and the shares split between yourself and I, and also whether or not you will be renting a room here as well... But, before we even get into any of that, I must first 'see' your resume." She smiled and it looked vicious upon her beautifully painted face. "Rigger here," she glanced at the black mech, "Will evaluate your performance. You understand that most of the patrons are mechs, correct?"

Tracks resignedly looked at Rigger, seeing that the scowl on his face had turned into a delighted sneer; his optics burning with lust. "...yes," he mumbled in reply. "He wouldn't be my first."

"Ah... good then," the femme chuckled darkly. "Rigger, please offer us your... _assistance_..."

At her orders, the black mech walked forwards, his gaze fixed wholly on the corvette. Tracks only had a moment to swallow back his rising tears before the stranger put a servo on his shoulder tire, and everything else faded into a blur...


	4. Chapter 4

**C.M.D: This is another smaller fic that is getting attention this update period, after who knows how long, and I'm somewhat glad. It means I'm closer to finishing up one more story and you get to read some angsty goodness! Sorry that there's no WPA updates though... Maybe next month.**

" _Congratulations," the teacher smiled, handing Tracks and Soundwave back their test results. "Top marks, both of you!"_

_Tracks chuckled happily as he took his, nudging his best friend as the teacher moved on to the rest of the students. "I knew I would do great! How about you, 'Wavey? Were we just as confident?"_

" _Affirmative," the other sparkling answered, secretly smiling._

" _Good!," the corvette chirped, his little wings fluttering merrily. Soundwave watched them with rapt attention, feeling his spark pulse faster with every flutter they made._

" _With us being such great students, you know what that means don't you Soundwave?," Tracks bounced in his seat, grabbing his friend's results and comparing them. "It means," he gushed, optics glittering brightly, "That we can both attend Iacon's illustrious Academy next year! Oh sweet Primus, I'm so excited!"_

_Though Soundwave would never comment on it, he was excited too. His good grades would mean that his sire would be happy with his graduation and his acceptance into one of the best school's this side of Cybertron, plus, it meant that the tapedeck could stay with Tracks still. On the cusp of being younglings, the blue mech had noticed as comfort and security within the other sparkling's presence had morphed into something more- something stronger, sweeter and warmer._

_In his locker, prepared decacycles in advance, sat the most painstakingly made love letter for the winged 'bot. Soundwave was saving it, planning on giving it to Tracks after their graduation ceremony. He only hoped that the corvette returned his feelings..._

_Lost in his musings, Soundwave was surprised when the teacher approached the pair again, this time, her face withdrawn and her optics dim. "Tracks...," she softly addressed, catching the stunned sparkling's attention, "Please come out in the hall with me."_

_Nodding, Tracks rose to his pedes, glancing back at Soundwave quickly. "I'll be right back, 'Wavey!," he smiled, "So don't start planning any graduation plans without me!" The other sparkling tried to nod, but his entire frame felt stiff, sensing a change in the atmosphere that he truly did not like._

_Watching as Tracks was escorted out of the room, Soundwave immediately rose to his pedes and followed once the door had been shut behind the teacher, ignored by the other students as he ignored them. Daring not to open the door, the blue mech instead peered out of the door's window, taking note of the counsellor, principal, homeroom teacher and Tracks standing not too far down the hall._

_Tracks chattered amiably before he was gently interrupted, the principal speaking in low tones and the counsellor getting to one knee. Immediately, his friend's wings dropped, leaving the sparkling shaking hard from helm to pede. The counsellor tried to hug the distraught corvette, but Tracks ripped away, shaking and shouting. Soundwave quickly opened the door and stepped out into the wall, being slammed with sharp cries of "No, n-no!", drowning out what the older 'bots were trying to say._

_Whirling around, Tracks caught sight of Soundwave and the display of his broken, tear-streaked face stabbed into the tapedeck's frightened spark. "S-so-soundwa...," the multi-coloured sparkling choked, running for his friend, crashing into his frame._

_Soundwave managed to keep his balance, winding arms around the wailing Tracks, hugging him tight. As if the simple action could heal his shattered friend._

**xXxXx**

It took him a few orns, but eventually Soundwave had had enough of games and went directly to Tracks' apartment to talk. He rang the doorbell and, when that proved ineffective after a few more kliks, knocked. Checking his chronometer, the blue mech noted that he'd been standing there almost half a cycle and still no answer came. Where was Tracks? Was he hiding within, refusing to have anything to do with the tapedeck still? Or was he really out- and where?

Not deliberating any further, the youngling reached into subspace, pulling out a spare keypass and swiping it through the apartment's security lock. It was dark within for barely half an astrosecond, before the sensors caught his energy reading and flashed on, filling the space with brilliant light. It stung his optics momentarily, but Soundwave busied himself with grabbing the large bag by his pedes, and when he entered the lights had settled at the appropriate output setting. Cubes clinked lightly from his side as he walked inside, the door closing behind him, heading for the kitchen.

There were a few dishes on the counter and in the sink, he noted, an empty cube sitting on the small kitchen table. That wasn't usual of Tracks, the blue youngling thought. Though the corvette could never be called a maid, he still took care to keep what little mess he made was cleaned up afterwards. It looked bad upon him as a whole if he projected the image of a slob, Tracks used to tell the tapedeck. Setting his bag on the table, Soundwave vented quietly, taking the empty cube and recycling it, before washing the little bit of dishes. He was just putting his stock of cubes into the frightfully empty fridge when he noticed a strange glow emitting from under the table.

Slowly closing the fridge, Soundwave bent to one knee, sliding a servo between the chair legs and pulling out the thin datapad. Its hideous yellow face and flashing glyphs shined up at him, causing the poor mech's fuel tanks to drop suddenly.

This was...!

There was a beep as the front door was unlocked, announcing a second presence entertaining. Hurriedly, Soundwave clambered back up to his pedes, just as Tracks came wheeling into the kitchen. There was a tiny bag of a couple cubes in his left servo and his face was slightly smudged with heavy layers of make-up. The corvette was looking down when he first entered but it only took an astrosecond before he realized he wasn't alone; optics flaring as they sprang upwards, landing on the other youngling.

"S-soundwave, what are you-?" Tracks stopped himself mid sentence, what Soundwave took to be relief bleeding from his optics, as the shorter mech's tone went cold and he started again. "What are you doing here? I didn't say you could enter my apartment without my consent!"

He tried not to take it personally, holding up the datapad, catching the corvette's attention. "Status: You are being... evicted?," Soundwave replied, his statement becoming a question as his confusion rose. "Inquiry: How? Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Y-you- That's none of your business!," the multi-coloured mech shouted back, leaping forward and yanking the notice out of his friend's servos before retreating once more. "Obviously you don't care or I wouldn't be getting these notices in the first place," he added cruelly, shutting off the screen. "Now do me a favor and get out."

Soundwave though refused to budge. "Status: Do care! Fact: just want to help."

Tracks response was not one that the blue mech had been expecting. The beautiful smile that the larger youngling secretly revelled in twisted and warped into a nasty sneer on an over-powdered face; vocalizer cutting shortly with the farthest illusion of a laugh. "Puh-lease...," the corvette drawled, his optics getting dimmer by the astrosecond, "You're of no use to me, I can take care of this myself."

"Protest: But..." The tapedeck unwisely took a step forward in his attempt to get his friend to talk to him, and was alarmed when he ended slammed back into the fridge from the other's vicious shove.

"I said GET OUT!," Tracks shouted, his optics narrowed into tight slits. "NOW!"

Silently, Soundwave rose, heading for the door; every step mimicked by the smaller, territorial youngling. That cruel anger didn't fade even as he backed out the door slowly, leaving plenty of space for a clawed servo to lash forward and curl about the door handle; the metal ringing with a vicious clang as Tracks vanished behind the slamming door.

His chronometer buzzed several kliks later, informing the tapedeck that it was time to return home, and turning about, he did just that.

**xXxXx**

Nerve lines were buzzing with anxiety as Tracks stood outside the Landlord's office, a simple box tucked tightly under one arm. It was now or never, he knew, but it didn't stop his doubts from rising up and setting his plating to miniscule shaking. How could sudden independency feel so hollow? Wasn't this the end goal of all they were being raised to be: self-sufficient and contributing members of society?

Shaking his helm, the corvette tried to banish those darkening thoughts, as he finally rang the doorbell. A crisp "C'mon in" called out as the door slid open, granting the youngling entrance. Hesitating for half an astrosecond, Tracks quickly strutted inside, pulling his box forward and centre. The mech behind the desk looked up for a moment, before turning back to his news feed.

"Tenant 347, correct?," he asked. "I believe I sent you three notices already."

"I-i... I know," Tracks replied, licking quickly at his lip components, "And I know that tomorrow is the deadline, that's why I'm here." He quickly set the box down on the desk, taking a respective step back.

"Oh?" The Landlord glanced at the box, drawing it slowly toward himself as he addressed the other mech. He pried back the lid, staring down at the collection of credits within. "I see you've managed to gather your rent," he smiled, beginning to count. His smile dropped a couple kliks later. "...you're short a hundred credits."

It was now or never... "I-i know," Tracks tried not to stutter, servos clasped pleadingly before him, "I d-don't get paid a-again until next week, i-if you could allow me to s-stay, I promise I'll have the rest of the rent then!"

The Landlord was shaking his helm, mouth opening to say something, but Tracks didn't give him the chance. "Please," the youngling begged, leaning forward. As intended, the light gleamed off of his freshly waxed frame, drawing suddenly lustful optics down his curves. "Please, couldn't I do something to make up for such a small difference?"

The mech stared and stared before he finally shut down his desktop, pushing back slightly from the desk. "Over the desk," he commanded huskily, his fingers locking the door from his control panel beneath the table.

It was better this way, he rationalized, better than being forced to the streets and falling prey to circumstances... A frag here or there meant nothing if it kept him free from all that.

Tracks didn't even shutter his optics as he did as told, hips hiked and plating peeling back.

**xXxXx**

What had happened...?

Soundwave sat weakly at his desk, hunched over and fingers stroking over a framed envelope. The specially ordered and prepared paper was faded and worn, even after being sealed within the glass for so long. Neat, but childish, cursive read 'To Tracks' on its face, the seal on the back untouched.

Having never been touched by its intended recipient...

He was still trying to make sense of what had happened earlier that orn, and truthfully, Soundwave could not even piece anything rational together. The sudden and disastrous way his friendship with Tracks had disintegrated left a puzzled, aching hole within him. How?

How did one absent mark on an otherwise perfect attendance result in this?

Stroking the frame again, the tapedeck felt his spark revolve weakly, even its flame feeling dim in his chestplates. After the death of his creators, Soundwave had promised to take care of Tracks, just as Tracks unknowingly took care of him every orn following his sire's beatings. It had been easy. His monthly allowance, though little, he had received since his very small stellar cycles had accumulated into a large sum by the time he was almost a youngling. Through some deception, the blue mech had made it possible for Tracks to live on his own and retain the freedom to join the Academy alongside Soundwave- their dream.

It had been his finances that kept the corvette sheltered...

But now it was gone. How though?

Vents cycled stiffly and Soundwave ignored the coolant clinging stubbornly to the rim of his optics. There was the continuous thought to toss the other mech aside, just as he had seemingly been thrown away, but the tapedeck simply could not do that. More than ever, he needed Tracks, and knowing he was in trouble only made him wish to jump to the other's aid like he had done before.

"Inquiry: what is becoming of you Tracks...?," the youngling mumbled sorrowfully.

Pedesteps ringing down the hall sharply tore the blue mech from his sad musings in a panic; shoving the framed envelope back into its hidden draw and pretending to work as the thunderous steps stomped ever closer to his door.

**C.M.D: Confirmation of Soundwave's abuse and Tracks' desperate sacrifices not to slip any deeper into the sinkhole that is his life. Such crazy stuff! What will happen next? Find out next update!**   
**Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	5. Chapter 5

**C.M.D: Getting so close to the end! Oooh, I'm both excited and sad, but we'll see how you guys feel after this update! Enjoy~**

_It was a beautiful, bright orn the last day of school._

_Much too gorgeous to bear for the little corvette standing alone outside the building, a swollen backpack on his back and a plaque held limply in his servos. Sniffling, Tracks raised one just then to wipe at his wet face, wishing that the sun would go away._

" _...Query: Tracks?," came a soft, hesitant question._

_Stiffening, the sparkling pulled his servo away from his optics, as he turned to see his friend. Soundwave's visor dimmed as he surveyed the broken expression on the corvette, reaching into subspace and withdrawing his handkerchief. He held it out for Tracks to take, but the other only stared at it dimly, and after a moment, the blue mechling stepped forward to gently dab at his friend's wet cheekplates._

" _Inquiry: Why Tracks outside? Status: School over," the tapedeck shared, wiping over Tracks' optics when he shuttered them momentarily._

_When the blue orbs showed again, they were once more swelling with a tides' worth of tears. "I-i... I have to s-stay," the corvette mumbled, vents rattling as he tried to refrain from sobbing, "S-someone's coming to pick me up."_

" _Define: pick up?," Soundwave replied, perplexed._

_Tracks paused, mouth open, unable to speak for a klik. Then, through a knot of static, he raised his gaze and said, "They took my home away because my parents are gone. Now, someone will come and take me to go live somewhere else. Forever."_

_Frigid lightning zapped across the sparkling's neural net, leaving him shaken deep in his core, as his processor skipped over the spoken words; caught in a disbelieving loop, unable to find a response. "P-protest: Tracks accepted to Iacon Academy!," Soundwave yelled, grabbing Tracks' servo and raising the plaque he held. The tapedeck possessed the same one, stating that each student had achieved greatest honors and a reserved place into the prestigious school for their following education. "Status: Tracks can't go now! Fact: Belongs here!"_

_Soundwave was on the verge of tears, but Tracks was already in the middle of shedding his. "I-i know," the corvette sobbed, wings trembling with every heave, "I-i don't w-want to g-go either! B-but I ca-can't stay; I h-have no home a-and n-no money a-and no-no one to t-take me! I-i'm just a mi-miserable l-lil' bornling t-that no one w-wants..."_

_Soundwave hugged his friend close, almost crushing him with the fierceness of his embrace, his helm twisting left and right frantically. "N-no! Tracks: wanted! Tracks: loved! Tracks: is so good!," the blue sparkling protested. "Status: All lies! Status: Can't take you away!"_

_Pulling back, the usually stoic student grabbed the other's servo and broke into a mad run, taking the both of them far away from the school. Tripping along, but never falling, Tracks went; his weeping optics wide and alarmed. "S-soundwave?! W-what are you doing?," he hiccuped._

_The tapedeck only glanced back once, yanking his mouthguard off to be heard clearly. "Fact: Will find Tracks a new home!," he announced boldly, mouth fixed thinly in determination. "Tracks: Can stay and go to school together -like we dreamed! Status: I promise!"_

" _'W-wavey...?," the corvette stuttered, his tears drying up entirely. Spark swelling with hope, the winged sparkling quickened his pace; him and his best friend fleeing off into Iacon, fueled by their shared dreams and wishes._

**xXxXx**

He didn't know why he'd come back...

Soundwave stood before Tracks' door, staring with painstaking nostalgia at the numbers welded to its surface, remembering with bittersweet fondness how this place had become a second home -to both of them. Long nights studying, procrastinating, watching movies and talking... Coming over on weekends and playing, simple games and the like, before the Academy forced two younglings to toss aside those silly things and get serious in their studies... It all seemed like a blur; a memory so sweet and tender that it had to be completely imagined, a long-forgotten dream.

Glancing down at his servos, the tapedeck tried to remember that it was real. Moments like those could never be faked, and it was only with Tracks that the blue mech had ever come to know such things in the first place. Smiling beneath his mouthguard, Soundwave shifted his grip on the case he carried; tapping in the security pass once more and entering the apartment.

As before, it was dark when he entered, and the youngling made the smart decision not too linger. He didn't know where Tracks was spending all his free time -though the longer he pondered, the darker his thoughts became- but he would not invoke his friend's wrath a second time. Striding right into the corvette's berthroom, Soundwave set the case down on the disheveled sheets; double-checking the dials weren't tampered with in some way before withdrawing, pleased.

Now came the moment of uncertainty...

Venting lowly, the blue mech drew the framed envelope from subspace, brushing his fingers over the protective glass in mocking tenderness. The sensors on the tips of his plating noted the broken up grooves on the otherwise smooth plane, reminding Soundwave of the numbers he etched into the free spaces earlier that orn -the combo to the case he had stolen.

Yes, stolen. His sire would be furious once he discovered its absence, but the youngling cared not. He would take the punishment when it came without regret. Because, alive or dead, he promised he'd look after Tracks... and it was one he intended to keep.

**xXxXx**

Tracks had just finished with a "client", when Collet stopped him in the hallway. The 'House-mother', as she liked to call herself, had been lurking in wait outside the rooms, springing out of the shadows when she spotted her specific target.

"Where do you think you're going?," she demanded, noting the bag slung over one shoulder. "You're not finished."

"I am," Tracks answered, turning and scowling at the femme. He was tired and filthy, and certainly in no mood to banter with the cruel whore. "I've already fragged _three_ mechs tonight. It's going on three in the morning and I have school to prepare for in a few, short cycles."

"Shame," Collet drawled carelessly, wiping a clotted gunk of eyeliner from the corner of her optics. She rolled it between fore-finger and thumb, before flicking it off somewhere into the dark corners. "You take a long time realizing what a pointless endeavor that is."

The corvette glared but said nothing, storming down the second landing staircase and heading for the door. Rigger moved to block the youngling's exit, his scowl vicious but his optics laughing cruelly. "What the frag is this?," Tracks demanded, whirling towards Collet again.

"I told you you weren't finished," Collet smiled, her lip components twisting unnaturally as she leaned casually on the banister, "And if you wish to get paid, you will take this final party."

"Par-," Tracks gaped, words tripping and breaking up in unadulterated shock as he absorbed the statement's full meaning. "Y-y...You can't do that!"

The femme laughed, harsh and croakily, and even Rigger snorted behind the corvette in amusement. "And what are you going to do about it?," she sneered, finally curbing her laughter. "You're working illegally in an unregistered brothel, underage might I add, and against school policy. The moment you squeal, we relocate, the community defaces your claims and you are kicked out of your 'precious Academy'. My child, you can do _nothing_... and sooner or later, you'll realize this is the place you belong."

Tracks' shoulder tires hunched about his helm, fists clenched and wings trembling. He could feel heat coating his optics but refused to show tears before this pit-spawn harpie. " _Never_ ," he spat, "I will never stay here. I will get out and I'll never come back!"

Collet snorted disbelievingly, fixing her shawl as she stood straight. "Whatever. In the meantime, our special guests requested something 'exotic' and I plan on delivering. You can either head up to the lavender room yourself... or Rigger will be happy to 'escort' you there."

The youngling gave a tiny flinch at the sickening coo, glancing back at Rigger (who waited with an evil smirk on his face), shuffling forward before the brute could lift his hammy servos. Glaring at the femme as he passed, Tracks grudgingly headed up the stairs, stripping off his bag and dropping it inside the door as he entered the lavender room. Five sets of helms turned to greet him, rich colours and gleaming plating of the new "clients"standing out vividly against the decor's grungy attempts at luxury.

"Ah...," one such mech spoke up amusingly, the tallest of the bunch, "It seems Madame had something to give after all. What say you?" The tan mech nudged his nearest partner, a silent slender mech, only slightly taller than Tracks, who stared with a piercing set of red optics beneath a purple cowl.

Tracks decidedly disliked his gaze the least. It was... knowing... too familiar...

"Hurry up!," the others jeered, tearing the youngling away from the silent flyer's glare. They cackled and whistled, sloshing drinks in their fun. "Give us a show, whore! Dance, dance!"

Optics lowering, the corvette slowly walked to the center of the semi-circle, holding back trembles as he was peeled apart by lustful optics.

**xXxXx**

Tracks was late. Really, really late.

Soundwave turned and unabashedly stared around the lecture hall, yet among the sea of colourful plating available he could not see the corvette. Where was he? It was already the afternoon classes- Tracks had missed four classes and would miss his last two at this point! The tapedeck felt his fuel tanks coil sickeningly again and had to forcefully face forward.

He wasn't even going to pretend to listen to the teacher when his thoughts were all over the place, but he could not draw any more unwanted attention on himself either. Where was Tracks? Why hadn't he come in today?

The blue mech's spark quaked and he fearfully worried if he'd driven the other youngling further away by leaving the letter in his apartment the night prior. If Soundwave tried to go there again, would he find Tracks or would he have disappeared? He was so wrapped up in his tumultuous thoughts that Soundwave didn't realize that the bell had rung until half the class had already filed out of the room. Hurrying to his pedes, the tapedeck made his way out into the crowded halls, heading to his final class.

It was one he also shared with Tracks and there was sinking relief in the blue mech upon entering, when he caught a glimpse of white wings in the final row. Soundwave turned to head for Tracks but he paused when he noticed the corvette wasn't even sitting straight in his seat. He was slouched over, wings at half-mast and spotted in some sort of thin, almost invisible gunk; his plating looked horribly scrubbed, as if Tracks had been in a rush, and his make-up was even worse. It looked like he'd thrown it on in dim lighting, without a care for style or colour matching, layered on what only could be described as leftover filth.

But that wasn't what had Soundwave really worried.

What made him stop, uncertain of whether to sit beside Tracks or not, was the dim, almost black lighting of the corvette's optics. Almost like he had gone blind...

"Tra-," the tapedeck began, but the words caught in his vocalizer as a couple, rowdy students jumped in the vacant seats; leaving no space for Soundwave and causing Tracks to turn to the window. Spark dimming in his chestplates, the blue youngling hurried to find somewhere else to sit, before the teacher could chastise him.

**xXxXx**

When the school bell rang, Tracks took off like a turbofox, disappearing faster than Soundwave could have predicted. He thought to follow, but he already knew that the corvette would not be found at his home. Wherever he went once the orn was over, and dusk was beginning to draw near, it wasn't to the safety of his apartment. But he couldn't just stand by idly and watch as his closest friend, and the one he secretly called conjux endura, continued to seemingly die before his optics. Tonight, Soundwave decided, coming to a conclusion, he would follow Tracks.

His appearance worried the other youngling so, and the tapedeck felt an irrepressible urge to intervene lest he lose the winged mech. Exiting the Academy, the blue mech felt icy claws sink into his fuel lines, noticing the black sedan sitting at the far side of the property.

There would be no chasing Tracks tonight...

Slowly, Soundwave headed for the other vehicle, not surprised when the passenger door opened before he'd fully reached it, a rough vocalizer saying, "Get in."

A touch of fear dragging across his spark, the youngling climbed into the back; holding back a flinch when the side door slammed shut behind him. It was a long drive across Iacon, to the escalated homes of the rich and important, each set on their own glittering dais and surrounded by gently sloping landscapes -made an even longer trip, due to Soundwave's escort carting him through back alleys and side streets, before coming up to a secluded side entrance at one of the shining buildings. As if the tapedeck was a dirty secret...

Which, in many ways, he was.

Shoulders slumped, Soundwave climbed out at the silent prompt, heading into the house. He didn't know what to expect when he entered, but he expected something. The crack across his helm -that sent him tumbling, skittering, crashing across the floor- certainly qualified.

"I see Kroma found you quickly," a rich, cruel vocalizer said casually. "How sweet of him to deliver you with haste."

Vents rattling, Soundwave pushed himself up, rolling over and staring up at his sire. His helm was causing him flaring pulses of agony and he vaguely noticed something damp at his brow, yet all the blue youngling could focus on was the other mech standing over him with a poker from the office's fireplace. Purple cowl and slender frame, sweeping wing plates flared like a cape behind him and piercing red optics...

Senator Ratbat was not a force to be reckoned with, sire or not.

"You...," snarling lip components spread across fanged denta as the flyer took a quick step forward, backhanding the youngling with the poker a second time, "You have tried my patience for the last time!"

"Where is it?," Ratbat demanded, squatting and grabbing the groaning Soundwave, shaking the disorientated mech hard. "Where is my trunk?! You took it- I know you did. I have the footage! Return it to me now before I decide to just bash your useless helm in!"

Despite the threats and the crushing servo around his neck cables, the youngling shook his helm, refusing to give in to his abuser. Growling loudly, the senator rose to his pedes, swinging the poker down on the tapedeck's helm; kicking and stomping repeatedly when Soundwave fell away.

Rolling, even crawling, the younger mech tried to get away but the three blows to his helm left him frazzled, and each new injury only drained his strength further. He must of been babbling -there was the faint sound of running words crying out- but his sire barely listened, coming after the tapedeck every time he drew away.

"I raised you... Sheltered you... Fed you... Gave you a fraction of my wealth and power...," Ratbat hissed, hurting Soundwave between every short pause, "And for what?! You're useless! A waste! An emotionless, lil' bag of scraps not even good enough for the junk heap! I should of had you smelted!"

The poker came slashing for Soundwave's helm again as he tried to pick himself up; cracking him across the face, shards of metal and glass scattering as the force broke both his mouthguard and visor. Fans hitched, visual pixels in a sick, colourful whirl as something pulsed through the youngling's aching processor -colours and words, like faded images, zipping across his brain module. Freeze frame memories that didn't belong to him.

"T...tracks..."

The senator paused in his path to the tapedeck, optics flared in recognition at the mumbled name. "Thinking of that stupid whore again?," he spat, shifting his grip on the poker as purple optics flashed up to the thinner mech.

Soundwave couldn't think straight, with the blows to his helm and the strange ghosting in his processor of borrowed words shouting loudly, yet despite that all he was still capable of feeling shock and fear. "Inquiry: h-how-?"

The words stumbled off his glossa as images came flooding in next -a room in dirty, pastel lavender and a poor, shaken up youngling with white wings standing in the center. Watching closely, Ratbat laughed richly, unable to contain it as the youngling began to shake.

"Finally! So it took almost killing you to awaken your latent abilities?," he sneered, still chortling. "I wish I had known that sooner. I would have taken you to the edge of offlining stellar cycles ago!"

Ignoring the cruel announcement, the tapedeck struggled to his pedes, feeling anger, fear, hate and disgust wage inside of him. "Query: W-what did you do to Tracks?!," he demanded.

His sire snorted, calming his laughter long enough to replace it with a scowl. "Only what the disgusting thing gave himself up for."

Images were flooding in faster and Soundwave felt his strength almost bleed from him completely as his spark withered in sorrow. He could see, heard vague boasts, as Tracks was pulled apart, held down, his resigned optics the only beacon as he was...

"Did you think I wouldn't find out about your personal whore?," Ratbat was snapping, getting louder and louder as his anger quickly built up heat again, "I run this whole state! I know everything! And I won't let you tarnish my reputation by funding a pathetic, second-rate, lil'-"

A bellow escaped the youngling as something inside him snapped, erasing what once was called Soundwave and charging for the suddenly stunned flyer.

**C.M.D: Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	6. Chapter 6

**C.M.D: Recommended music for this last chapter (though it's great to loop for the entire story) _Too Cold to Snow_ (Second Person), _Blue Jeans_ (Lana Del Ray), _No Window_ (Second Person), _Carmen_ (Lana Del Ray and also practically the themesong to this story), _Divine_ (Second Person) and _Born to Die_ (Lana Del Ray).**

It was late by the time Tracks got in. Well, early morning, to be more accurate. Dawn hadn't yet come and that was in the youngling's favor. He knew what he looked like under light: scuffed up, paint nearly scrapped off entirely from his pelvic armor and covered in a quick coat of wax sullied cycles ago. Most would be ashamed to be walking around the streets in this sort of state, but shame was the furthest thing from the corvette's processor right now. Still there, not to be mistaken, and brewing in its toxic concoction, but anger was dominate today; a rage so strong that it had caused Tracks to lash out at Collet.

The look on the femme's face would have been priceless if the mech had been able to find any sort of humor in the moment. Yet as his credits scattered across the room and dinged off of the whore's frame -his supposed "equal" pay, barely even a fifth of what he should have received!- Tracks could only hiss and curse Collet as he damned her thieving, cruel spark before storming out of the house entirely.

He was done, the youngling swore. Desperate or not, he would not return to that place. He could find other means of employment.

Impatiently stabbing at his apartment keypad, Tracks stomped inside once the door slid open, making a beeline for the bathroom. His bag was tossed somewhere into the apartment, bottles and jars clunking dangerously as they hit and rolled across the floor. As lights flared online in the bathroom, the youngling was taunted by his filthy image in the wall length mirror; a sudden urge to smash it so strong that the winged mech literally had to clutch his fist to his chestplates to refrain from following through.

When he'd expected to just quickly drop in and pick up his pay for the week, Collet had swooped in and thrust Tracks into a room with a client. It took three more clients later -two of them at once- before the femme would even mention pay. The fact that she would dare rob him so much after all of that was disgusting. Rage building even stronger than before at the memory, Tracks forced himself into the shower, taking three times longer than usual. Finally retreating, thoroughly soaked to the point that his vents themselves felt bogged, the corvette moved on to stripping off his wrecked finish; agonizingly repainting every reachable inch with great precision. Tracks almost forewent waxing completely, reminded of less pleasant times, but forced himself to give himself a healthy coat anyway.

At the end, glancing into the bathroom mirror once more, the youngling could finally say that he recognized the person staring back. Even if the glowing optics attached looked dimmer and removed from everything around them.

Struck by a sudden wave of sorrow, Tracks hastily exited the bathroom, heading for his room and hopefully sanctuary. Not for the first time since things began falling apart, he longed for the old days before this madness, when Soundwave was here or would answer his comms late at night. Oh, how he desperately missed his friend!

Coolant welling in his optic ducts, the corvette shuffled into his room, startling when the lights slowly swelled to life; revealing the metal trunk sitting in the very center of his berth. Alarms were ringing in Tracks' helm as he rushed for the case, servo grabbing the sealed frame on top while he quickly scanned the room behind him. No strangers had leapt out of shadows yet, giving the feeling that he might very well be all alone, but the mismatched pulses of his spark would not yet seize for the youngling. Facing forward slowly, Tracks looked down at the object in his possession, once more jolting in surprise as he noted his name in familiar scrawl on the envelope sealed inside.

"What...?," the half-formed question slipped from his slack jaw.

Sitting down, the multi-coloured mech brushed his fingers across the glass, lost in thoughts. He noted, belatedly, the etches made in the glass; studying it, it seemed to be a code. The combination to the metal trunk? Tracks filed the information away for later inspection, while his fingers gently pried apart the frame, slipping the aging envelope out. How long it was, as blue optics skimmed over young, sparkfelt words, the corvette would never know but he'd read the letter almost several times before he was able to tear away; shaking legs rushing from the room in a frenzy.

He-?! Since when-?!

Tracks processor was in a mad whirl- shocked, confused, disbelieving, overwhelmed- that it took several pings from his own memory banks before the youngling realized that he did not know the exact address of his friend's home. Oh, he knew that Soundwave lived richly, but did that necessarily mean Iacon's prestigious district was where he called home?

There was no time to ponder it. The corvette would drive up and down those gold-paved roads all day, if that's what it took to find Soundwave. Rushing back into the bathroom for a moment, to ensure that every nasty mark of Collet's business had been removed from his frame, Tracks was cut off-guard by the active holo-net glowing in his peripheral.

A standard in every home in Iacon, every room (berthrooms exempted) were directly linked to the Comm-Net, Cybertron's sphere of communications and media. It provided news, entertainment, maps and even information to anyone who wished to plug in and browse. Though typically it had to be manually operated -even for activation- it would turn itself on when an emergency of some sort took place. As of this moment, a news reel played, in a collection of disjointed, shaken live video; subtext glowing with bright glyphs shouting 'MURDER'."

Shuffling closer uncertainly, Tracks lifted a finger, turning on the holo-screen's sound as a sickening sensation clawed at his fuel tanks.

"This just in," the reporter shouted, video swapping back and forth between crowds of 'bots and a line of parked Enforcer assault vehicles, "Senator Ratbat has been murdered! I repeat: Senator Ratbat has been murdered! Staff at the Senator's home called authorities once the incident occurred and the suspect was shortly apprehended! Charged with brutality, assault with a weapon and murder, suspect Soundwave is-"

The rest of the reporter's loud statement fell into muffled silence as the image changed over again, showing a crew of Enforcers marching a subdued, energon-spattered tapedeck across the field; disappearing into the officers' stronghold as the crowd outside surged with noise. Yet, not a single word was discernible to the corvette that watched with unfocused optics, hunched over and collapsed on the bathroom floor.

**xXxXx**

Twenty by forty by fifteen feet. Adorned with a thin slat barely a berth and a movable tile in the floor for energon rations, the room was less than hospitable. Of course, it was a cell and the glittering sheet of active energy at the open end of the room made sure to remind every prisoner of that fact; even as they were granted a distorted view out into the long hallway beyond, decorated from side to side with similar cells in even pacing.

Seated against the far wall, staring out int the perceived void, Soundwave felt a strange sort of tranquility. He was tiny enough still that the cramped quarters did not disturb him as much as the other prisoners, and the crackling electricity powering his cell drowned out the swell of unspoken voices that filled his helm since he had murdered his so-called "sire". What a queer ability, lingering for so long and unknown.

Soundwave knew not where Ratbat had supposedly learned of the youngling's talent but it really mattered not. Whatever his true origins were or the genealogy of his unfathomable skill; here, miles underground and imprisoned in Cybertron's greatest stockade, Soundwave was content in the knowledge that no one would hold themselves over him again.

The silence of the block dissipated in a sudden cacophony of hoots and hollers, disrupting the youngling's meditation. Glancing up momentarily, the tapedeck half expected to see one of the Kaon guards stomping through the hall- perhaps with the food trolley rolling along beside them. Instead, two guards stood at the block's only exit, allowing a third, smaller mech to walk alone through the hall. Long limbs moved with a perfect strut, arms held in neutral stiffness; chin tilted proudly, optics never deviating despite the slurs and lecherous profanities shouted the youngling's way. Even his wings, usually so full of expression on their own, lay flat, lifted up and spread like a celeste's robe of immunity.

But none of that was relevant. All that Soundwave saw was the face of a long-lost, dear friend approaching him; despair, uncertainty and relief in his beautiful, blue optics.

"Soundwave...," Tracks vented, finally coming to a stop before the other's cell. The corvette glanced at the wall of energy separating them; one servo reaching out hesitantly, lashing back as a jolt of electricity arced painfully against the delicate fingers.

The prison's security would not allow the youngling to pass the final few inches.

"Stupid...!," the winged mech hissed, cradling his servo for a moment. "I told them you weren't a danger; I asked to see you without all these fragging awful security measures, but they refused!"

Tracks shook his helm, arms dropping to his sides as he collected his thoughts, returning his attention to the tapedeck after a klik. "I...," he began, but paused. This close, even the buzzing cell door could not keep Tracks' thoughts silent from Soundwave. He heard as the corvette decided to not mention finding Ratbat's case of credits, noting it as unwise in his current location. "A-anyway," Tracks continued, clearing his vocalizer, hugging an arm sheepishly, "Y-you... Thank you, Soundwave. Even now, you... you were looking out for me. I'm... I'm sorry I was so stupid. I..."

The winged mech choked and Soundwave flinched, reading the dark memory of a janitor's closet from the other's processor. Rage was flaring from cool embers again, fists clenched as the blue mech cursed his sire. Ratbat had caused everything to fall apart! Forcing Soundwave to lash out at his only friend, who had been hurting as well, digging in the wedge that drove them to this point...

This would be the only time in his construction that the telepath would wish Ratbat would be standing here before him now. Simply so he could rip the fragger apart again, piece... by agonizing piece...

A flash of fear, wrapped up in a blanket of worry, brushed against Soundwave. Not realizing he had been glaring at the ground, the tapedeck lifted his optics to Tracks once more, frame stiff with roiling hatred. The corvette looked down on him, optics flared but not shaking. Not backing away once, nor was his face contorted in fear... Just filled with concern for a beloved friend, sitting across from him, separated by bars.

"Soundwave, I... ," Tracks dropped his gaze, only now beginning to wither before the other youngling. "I wished I had known sooner. I-i... I had always guessed, when we were smaller, but... But I couldn't do anything to help. Didn't," the winged mech corrected in a moment.

"He must of been hurting you so bad... It must have been too much that night for you to no longer... take it..."

Silence fell for a time between the two younglins; Tracks' rambling through a thousand thoughts every astrosecond within his mind, and Soundwave listening, incapable of saying anything at all. One of the guards at the other end of the hall shouted a warning and Tracks' glared at them quickly, before turning his sympathetic optics back to Soundwave. "I've been a bad friend and I am sorry. I have no real excuse for that..."

Kneeling, Tracks withdrew an envelope from his subspace, placing it on the outer platform for the cell's energon rations. Noting the weight, even minute, the machine whirred to life; sucking the letter into its' belly and spitting it up on the tapedeck's side of the cell. Soundwave gleaned no surprise from the corvette's thoughts when he refused to moved for the envelope. Instead, a consistent well of understanding, empathy and even love washed over the prying mech.

"I'm... I'm done," Tracks announced, smiling vaguely, a hint of sorrow reflected in the corners of his lip components. "I've dropped out of the Academy and... and I'm leaving Iacon. I'll miss our old fort but... but there's been too many bad memories around that place recently. I don't want to stay and without you there, there's no point."

No reaction came from the telepath.

Brightening up a little, the corvette continued, gazing deeply into the bloody visor. "I've transferred to a trade school in Praxus. They have a great program and I've been thinking about doing one of their artisan courses. Plus, it's closer, meaning I can come visit you often... Something I plan on keeping to."

If Tracks had been expecting a response to that, he was sorely disappointed. But though his spark ached some at his friend's never-ending unresponsiveness, Soundwave himself could see no lie in Tracks' spoken words. That did not mean he believed the winged youngling would keep such a promise though.

A second guard called the final warning and Tracks angrily sighed, slowly rising to his pedes. There was a dotting of coolant in his optics this time when he looked to the tapedeck, but his vocalizer was strong and fierce. "I know it will be some time before you speak to me again, Soundwave, but I won't abandon you."

A pause, to smile shortly. "I never did, remember? I always waited if you fell behind when we were smaller and I will continue to wait, however long it takes. I love you, 'Wavey..."

Optics searching for a moment, Tracks had no choice but to yield. Whispering a soft "See you soon," the youngling turned and strutted back up the long hall; not once sparing his attention to the lustful mechs calling out to him.

It took quite a while for silence to descend again after the unexpected guest had left, and in all that time, Soundwave had not once budged. He was a prisoner not only in his cell, but his processor as well, replaying memory fragments over and over while beating back desperate hopes and temptations. As the lights began to dim from inactivity on the main floor, a rich, gravelly tone spoke from the cell to Soundwave's left, drawing the youngling's momentary ire.

"You have an interesting friend," the stranger said, a hint of amusement in his vocalizer. "Not many are so brave to venture into the depths here- and so young and pretty, too."

Soundwave glared, helm snapping to the cell wall between them as his rage flared into another frenzy. But before it could gain momentum, the older prisoner chuckled deeply, saying, "Calm down, my young companion. I have no inclination to your beau. I do not hunger for ones so fresh," confirming what Soundwave could sense from the stranger in the same moment.

Baffled, for not many had ever found Tracks _not_ attractive, the telepath was at a loss on how to respond, giving his cellmate a chance to continue. "I have no interest in your friend, still I fear that many others will. He proclaims loyalty bravely, yet your crime warrants a long time beneath the surface. That is not to say that your beau will betray you... but there are many who would have him if so desired, no concern for another's choice or will."

The gravelly vocalizer spoke with the sweetness of a soothsayer, gathering up the disorientated paths of the youngling's thoughts and releasing them in a uniformed pattern -like snakes on the scent of a single prey. Rage mixed with fear and desperation added its own toxins to the mix. All this madness had returned Tracks to him... yet it threatened to tear the corvette away from him again, whilst the telepath was literally helpless to stop it from happening. That could not take place!

"Cybertron has a great deal of dark, unforgivable secrets," the stranger was saying. His vocalizer was soft; rife with an emotion either sorrowful or hateful. Riddled with paranoia, Soundwave could not discern which at that very moment. "Those that make the system are merely front-men. They hold no real power and are just puppets to the true masterminds. The same monsters that sentenced you to rot here for five millenia, in a case that others, if given the chance, would deem in self-defense."

That was true. Soundwave had responded only in defense, not only to the years of abuse he'd endured, but for the protection of his beloved Tracks, who had fallen into Ratbat's machinations. The tapedeck was almost facing the wall now, enraptured by the unknown mech's striking words. How much more was there that he didn't know? How far did this corruption go?

"Perhaps the worst," his cellmate added, his vocalizer softening to the point of being almost non-existent. Soundwave pressed closer to catch everything. "Perhaps what is truly worse here, is that you are being condemned for murder... when Ratbat still miraculously lives, tended to secretly by the same puppet-master cohorts that are his friends."

The youngling jolted so hard, his pistons and ligaments screamed in silent agony at the harsh motion; having been locked in the same position for so long. Yet, it was insignificant to the rushing, molten wave of loathing that Soundwave felt flood his systems, smothering everything else in its' destructive fire.

"It's this sort of corruption that must end," the stranger on the other side of the wall declared, his non-pressuring vocalizer a beaming mantle for the youngling's rage to hang upon. "Innocents held accountable to over-trumped charges or none at all; struggling civilians robbed of their dignity, sparklings left to the servos of greedy abusers... All of this must end and I plan to do so. Uproot the rot and revolutionize the system. What I wish to know, a victim of the same circumstances as I, will you join me? Or will you stay here as the true criminal continues to function; possibly to seek revenge on the dear youngling you hold most precious?"

Behind red glass, violet optics turned darker and darker as red began to seep into the circuitry; every fibre of his plating shaking with conviction. Tracks' letter, still untouched, lay before Soundwave. It had been lovingly handled, sprayed with a fine mist of perfume the blue mech could smell even from where he sat, and carried personally through a treacherous city to be delivered to him directly. Grabbing it now, the youngling felt all his anger focus into one resolve.

"Designation: Soundwave," he intoned strongly, finally in control of everything once more.

Satisfaction, even a touch of pride, radiated from the left cell. "Megatron," the other prisoner shared. "A pleasure to meet you, Soundwave."

**xXxXx**

_He couldn't sleep._

_Blue optics slowly onlined, adjusting to the dim lighting, as the newly-aged youngling turned to his berth companion. Even now, Soundwave donned his mask and visor; not at all once seemingly bothered by the extra layers on his sleeping frame._

_Tracks smiled, silencing the giggles that rose. As they died down, he found himself staring intently at the tapedeck, his optics bright and distant. Slowly, a servo raised between the sheets, reaching for Soundwave's mask... But at the last astrosecond, the corvette paused, chastising himself profusely as he withdrew his servo. Soundwave had made it clear so long ago that he didn't like people removing his mask or visor, and though Tracks' couldn't shake the feeling that it was for a reason much worse than the blue youngling declared, he still respected his shy friend's wishes._

_If he was to break his promise..._

_Tracks shuttered his optics for an astrosecond, unable to shake the nauseating fear that rose. He didn't want to lose Soundwave's friendship. If it hadn't been for the other youngling, Tracks would have never made it through the grief of losing his creators. He would never have been able to stay in Iacon or attend their dream school... Soundwave had been there for everything important in Tracks' life! And even now, when suffering from an aching spark over a silly crush, the blue mechling still showed up in the late hours to keep the corvette company, until they passed out under the covers together._

_Smiling, optics welling with tears, Tracks snuggled closer to his slumbering companion; feeling his spark pulse with adoration for his best friend. He knew it was wrong; that he shouldn't selfishly long for Soundwave when Tracks was so inadequate and so self-absorbed most of the time. But he did._

_He loved Soundwave._

_Inbetween all the mechs and femmes that sparked the flames of attraction, that's where he loved the tapedeck freely. And where he always would, knowing that someday Soundwave would find someone truly worthy of him, and Tracks couldn't spoil that by being selfish._

_Venting sadly, the corvette sat up again, brushing a tender kiss to one of Soundwave's cheek vents, and pushing all his harrowing thoughts about the future to the side as he laid back down. Tonight, they were young and free, finally achieving their goals and Tracks had Soundwave. That was all that mattered._

_Shuttering his optics, the winged youngling snuggled up warmly to his best friend, succumbing to sleep for the rest of the night._  
  
**C.M.D: Thank you everyone whose joined me for this ride. This, as you may have guessed (though desperately wish not), is the end of this story. And another one to join the ranks of the successfully finished! What started as a small dream, long long ago, about an alternate route for war to strike Cybertron in IDW-verse, has come to fruition and I am so very pleased with my lil' brainchild -despite the fact that it seemed to have died for quite a while. I hope that you enjoyed the story just as much as I enjoyed writing it, and if anyone has any heart problems, send all your doctors' angry notes my way.**  
**Again, thank you so much for reading this far and I hope to see you all in another fic someday!  
**


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